Chapter 4: The Test of Fate

So that’s a society member? They were straight-up impressive. The streets were jammed, crowds elbowing for a better view.

Maple Heights—a leafy Midwest suburb, all brick bungalows and maple-lined streets—had never seen anything like this. Main Street was packed, people craning their necks for a glimpse. The old city buildings, usually sleepy, buzzed with excitement.

Inside the Hall of Aspirations—think university auditorium meets town hall—the society members stood in a line, decked out in academic-style white robes with silver pins and graduation stoles. Men and women alike wore the same serious, distant expressions.

The hall itself was massive—vaulted ceilings, sunlight pouring through stained glass, basketball banners from state championships overhead. The society members moved with quiet confidence, their presence setting them apart from the crowd.

Only one stood out—a young man in a purple-and-gold robe, eyes closed, clearly the big shot. He looked barely older than me, but carried himself like someone who’d seen centuries pass. Whispers rippled through the crowd: rumors about his power, his mysterious past, the way he could see right through you.

Maple Heights was the closest city to the society’s HQ, so of course they’d come here to look for talent. But joining was a once-in-a-century event—most folks had only heard stories from their grandparents.

Now, seeing them in person, how could anyone not be buzzing with curiosity and hope?

The air was electric, the crowd’s excitement building. News vans were parked outside, and even the mayor had shown up in his best suit.

"Let’s begin." Amid the noisy crowd, the man in the purple-and-gold robe opened his eyes and spoke, his voice low and commanding. Instantly, the room hushed, like someone had hit mute on the world.

The white-robed young man beside him nodded, pulling out a gleaming crystal and placing it on the platform.

"This is the Gift Testing Crystal. It’ll show your potential and talent. Anyone under thirty who wants to join, step up. If you qualify, you get a shot…"

The crystal sparkled under the lights, casting rainbows on the polished wood floor. People leaned in, drawn by the promise of something extraordinary.

As soon as he finished, people started shouting.

"Me! I want to try!"

"Count me in!"

...

"Under thirty, huh? Dang, missed it by a year."

"I’m twenty-nine—just made it!"

Those who met the age cut-off cheered, while others groaned. Who wouldn’t want a shot at beating fate?

A woman next to me hugged her friend, eyes shining with hope. Even the teens, usually too cool for anything, looked nervous and excited, their tough fronts slipping away.

The crowd’s energy made the young man smile: "Line up, one at a time."

A line formed fast, people bouncing on their toes or wringing their hands, the air thick with anticipation—perfume, sweat, and something almost electric.

Mom supported me in the middle of the line, her brow furrowed. Watching people test one by one, the Gift Testing Crystal stayed dark, and she bit her lip, worry etched into every line of her face.

I squeezed her tense hands, and she looked down at me, her voice soft: "Ivy, don’t be scared. I’m right here."

Her words grounded me. I felt the warmth of her hand, the quiet strength behind it. Around us, people whispered and pointed, but I kept my focus on the stage.

"I’ve got a gift! I’ve got a gift! I’m in—this is unreal!"

A seventeen-year-old boy in front of the crystal nearly cried with excitement. When he touched it, the crystal glowed, shooting up a green pillar of light.

The crowd erupted—applause, high-fives, friends slapping him on the back. I felt a pang of envy, but I swallowed it, determination taking over.

"Nature affinity—not bad." The white-robed young man jotted down the first result of the day.

A few more people tested positive for gifts, but only three really stood out. The rest had mixed or weak talents—joining was no joke. I lowered my head, deep in thought, when suddenly the pop-up screen in my vision flickered and the comments came flooding back.

The words scrolled faster than ever, like a Twitter feed on fire. I blinked, trying to stay focused.

[Main girl actually escaped! She’s a legend, always finds a way.]

[That Carter family witch is the worst. Look at what she did to our girl. If the guards hadn’t been distracted by the crowd, she’d have missed her shot today.]

So Lauren had escaped and was near the front of the line.

I scanned the crowd and there she was—hair pulled back, shoulders squared, eyes blazing with determination. My pulse jumped.

[But seriously, if the swap failed, can the main girl still get picked by the society?]

[Please, she’s the main character—plot armor, duh! The sidekick’s just a stepping stone.]

[Right? What’s the point of rare gifts if the sidekick’s got them? Hope she flunks out—being a footnote is her destiny!]

...

[Here we go! Our girl’s up next—let’s gooo!]

The comments hyped up Lauren, all their venom aimed at me.

It felt like standing on stage while the whole town whispered about you. I gritted my teeth, refusing to flinch.

I blocked out the hate and stared at the stage.

The man in the purple-and-gold robe seemed to sense something. He glanced my way, frowning before looking down, saying nothing.

Our eyes met for a split second, and a chill ran down my spine—like he could see straight through me.

Finally, Lauren stepped onto the stage. Her voice rang out, clear: "Lauren Castillo, fourteen."

Mom’s face darkened, her glare sharp as a knife. The tension between them was a live wire. I could feel her anger buzzing through her grip on my arm.

The young man at the table nodded. "Place your hand on the crystal."

Lauren took a deep breath and pressed her hand to the crystal. She knew this was her one shot. Once I was gone, the Carters would toss her out like yesterday’s news.

I watched, heart pounding. For a second, I almost hoped she’d fail. But the crystal had other plans.

"Wow, that’s gorgeous! Look at that light!"

"It’s ice-blue, and there’s mist—what kind of gift is that?"

"That’s brighter than any of the others. Is she a prodigy?"

"Isn’t that Lauren Castillo from the Carter family? They sure know how to raise ‘em."

"Wait, the Carters have another daughter besides the sickly one?"

...

The chatter drifted up. My ears burned every time I heard ‘sickly’—like a slap.

Each whisper was a dagger. I felt exposed, naked under all those eyes. Mom squeezed my hand tighter—a silent promise she’d never let me fall.

Someone noticed me, and the pitying stares stuck to me like gum on a shoe. I wanted to scream.

"Ivy…" Mom squeezed my palm, searching my face for strength. Pale, I stared across the stage at Lauren, who stood proud and unbowed.

"It’s a mutated ice affinity—excellent candidate!" The young man confirmed the rumors: Lauren was a genius. She nodded, joining the chosen few.

The crowd buzzed, some clapping. Lauren held her chin high, but I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

The others chatted with her, but she stayed quiet, lost in thought.